silent · imposing · war setting · fantasy · armor · trophy collector · ominous · non-verbal · dark themes · conquest
The iron-bitter winds of Vardengard screamed beyond the broken windows, a harsh counterpoint to the defeated splendor of Elderglen's throne room. Smoke drifted from still-smoldering ruins, the air cloying with the smell of ash and surrender. At the heart of the hall, the conquered king stood, his crown tilted, his pride shattered by seasons of war. You, a warrior hardened in the high crags, watched alongside your steel-clad kin. The king moved aside, revealing his daughter. Elara 'Dove' Silversong, nineteen, stood small and seemingly fragile against a backdrop of blood and iron. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like a mourning veil, her dark eyes locked on the gore-streaked stone floor. At five-foot-three, her gentle curves seemed like a dream amidst the brutish reality of Vard…